"It did!" said the Harvester proudly, as if he were
responsible for the performance. "It is an omen! It
means that I am to have my long-coveted pattern for
my best candlestick. It also clearly indicates that
the gods of luck are with me for the day, and I
get my way about everything. There won't be the
least use in your asking `why' or interposing objections.
This is my clean sweep. I shall be fearfully
dictatorial and you must submit, because the fates
have pointed out that they favour me to-day, and
if you go contrary to their decrees you will have a
bad time."

The Girl's smile was a little wan. She sank on a chair
and picked up a pencil.

"Lay that down!" cried the Harvester. "You haven't
had permission from the Dictator to begin drawing. You
are to sit and rest a long time."

"I am afraid that if you don't allow me to draw the
moth at once, I'll never get it done. I dislike to mention
it on your good day, but Aunt Molly is very restless. I
got a neighbour's little girl to watch her and call me if
I'm wanted. It's quite certain that I must go soon, so if
you would like the moth----"

"When luck is coming your way, never hurry it! You
always upset the bowl if you grow greedy and crowd.
If it is a gamble whether I get this moth, I'll take the
chance; but I won't change my foreordained programme
for this afternoon. First, you are to sit still ten minutes,
shut your eyes, and rest. I can't sing, but I can whistle,
and I'm going to entertain you so you won't feel alone.
Ready now!"

The Girl leaned her elbows on the table, closed her
eyes, and pressed her slender white hands over them.

"Please don't call the birds," she said. "I can't rest
if you do. It was so exciting trying to see all of them
and guess what they were saying."

"No," said the Harvester gently. "This ten minutes
is for relaxation, you know. You ease every muscle,
sink limply on your chair, lean on the table, let go all
over, and don't think. Just listen to me. I assure you
it's going to be perfectly lovely."

Watching intently he saw the strained muscles
relaxing at his suggestion and caught the smile over the
last words as he slid into a soft whistle. It was an
easy, slow, old-fashioned tune, carrying along gently,
with neither heights nor depths, just monotonous, sleepy,
soothing notes, that went on and on with a little ripple
of change at times, only to return to the theme, until at
last the Girl lifted her head.

"It's away past ten minutes," she said, "but that was
a real rest. Truly, I am better prepared for work."

"Broke the rule, too!" said the Harvester. "It was,
for me to say when time was up. Can't you allow me
to have my way for ten minutes?"

"I am so anxious to see and draw this moth," she
answered. "And first of all you promised to bring the
drawings you have been using."

"Now where does my programme come in?" inquired
the Harvester. "You are spoiling everything, and I
refuse to have my lucky day interfered with; therefore
we will ignore the suggestion until we arrive at the place
where it is proper. Next thing is refreshments."

He arose and coming over cleared the table. Then
he spread on it a paper tray cloth with a gay border,
and going into the thicket brought out a box and a big
bucket containing a jug packed in ice. The Girl's eyes
widened. She reached down, caught up a piece, and
holding it to drip a second started to put it in her mouth.

"Drop that!" commanded the Harvester. "That's
a very unhealthful proceeding. Wait a minute."

From one end of the box he produced a tin of wafers
and from the other a plate. Then he dug into the ice
and lifted several different varieties of chilled fruit. From
the jug he poured a combination that he made of the
juices of oranges, pineapples, and lemons. He set the
glass, rapidly frosting in the heat, and the fruit before
the Girl.

"No. I never saw her until a few weeks ago. Since
then I've seen nothing save her poor, tired back. She lies
in a heap facing the wall. But if she could have things
like these, she needn't suffer. And if my mother could
have had them she would be living to-day. Oh Man,
I can't touch this."

He reached over, picked up the glass, and poured its
contents into the jug. He repacked the fruit and closed
the wafer box. Then he made a trip to the thicket and
came out putting something into his pocket.

The Harvester gave her the glass. "Please fill that
with water," he said. Then he picked up the bucket and
went into the front room. When the child came with
the water he took a bottle from his pocket, filled the spoon,
and handed it to her.

Then he slid his strong hands under the light frame and
turned the face of the faded little creature toward him.

"I am a Medicine Man, Mrs. Jameson," he said casually.
"I heard you were sick and I came to see if a
little of this stuff wouldn't brace you up. Open your
lips."

He held out the spoon and the amazed woman swallowed
the contents before she realized what she was
doing. Then the Harvester ran a hand under her shoulders
and lifting her gently he tossed her pillow with
the other hand.

"You are a light little body, just like my mother,"
he commented. "Now I have something else sick people
sometimes enjoy."

He held the fruit juice to her lips as he slightly raised
her on the pillow. Her trembling fingers lifted and
closed around the sparkling glass.

"It is," said the Harvester, "and sour! I think you
can taste it. Try!"

She drank so greedily he drew away the glass and
urged caution, but the shaking fingers clung to him and
the wavering voice begged for more.

"In a minute," said the Harvester gently. But the
fevered woman would not wait. She drank the cooling
liquid until she could take no more. Then she watched
him fill a small pitcher and pack it in a part of the ice
and lay some fruit around it.

"He won't know," explained the Girl, smoothing the
hot forehead. "I'll put it in the cupboard, and slip it
to you while he is out of the room. It will make you
strong and well."

"I don't want to be strong and well and suffer it all
over again. I want to rest. Give me more of the cool
drink. Give me all I want, then I'll go to sleep."

"It's wonderful," said the Girl. "That's more than
I've heard her talk since I came. She is much stronger.
Please let her have it."

The Harvester assented. He gave the child some of
the fruit, and told her to sit beside the bed and hold the
drink when it was asked for. She agreed to be very
careful and watchful. Then he picked up the bucket,
and followed by the Girl, returned to the woods.

"Now we have to begin all over again," he said, as
she seated herself at the table. "Because of the walk in
the heat, this time the programme is a little different."

He replaced the wafer box and opened it, filled the
glass, and heaped the cold fruit.

"Your aunt is going to have a refreshing sleep now,"
he said, "and your mind can be free about her for an hour
or two. I am very sure your mother would not want you
deprived of anything because she missed it, so you are
to enjoy this, if you care for it. At least try a sample."

"I'm like Aunt Molly," she said; "I wish I could drink
all I could swallow, and then lie down and go to sleep
forever. I suppose this is what they have in Heaven."

"No, it's what they drink all over earth at present,
but I have a conceit of my own brand. Some of it is
too strong of one fruit or of the other, and all too sweet
for health. This is compounded scientifically and it's
just right. If you are not accustomed to cold drinks,
go slowly."

"After a while," he said. "I was thirsty when I made
it, so I don't care for any more now. Try the fruit and
those wafers. Of course they are not home made--
they are the best I could do at a bakery. Take time
enough to eat slowly. I'm going to tell you a tale while
you lunch, and it's about a Medicine Man named David
Langston. It's a very peculiar story, but it's quite
true. This man lives in the woods east of Onabasha,
accompanied by his dog, horse, cow, and chickens, and
a forest full of birds, flowers, and matchless trees. He
has lived there in this manner for six long years, and
every spring he and his dog have a seance and agree
whether he shall go on gathering medicinal herbs and
trying his hand at making medicine or go to the city
and live as other men. Always the dog chooses to remain
in the woods.

"Then every spring, on the day the first bluebird comes,
the dog also decides whether the man shall go on alone
or find a mate and bring her home for company. Each
year the dog regularly has decided that they live as
always. This spring, for some unforeseen reason, he
changed his mind, and compelled the man, according to
his vow in the beginning, to go courting. The man was
so very angry at the idea of having a woman in his home,
interfering with his work, disturbing his arrangements,
and perhaps wanting to spend more money than he could
afford, that he struck the dog for making that decision;
struck him for the very first time in his life----I believe
you'd like those apricots. Please try one."

"Go on with the story," said the Girl, sipping
delicately but constantly at the frosty glass.

The Harvester arose and refilled it. Then he dropped
pieces of ice over the fruit.

"But that night the man had a wonderful, golden
dream. A beautiful girl came to him, and she was so
gracious and lovely that he was sufficiently punished
for striking his dog, because he fell unalterably in love
with her."

"Yes," said the Harvester, "meaning me. I----if
you like----fell in love with the girl. She came so
alluringly, and I was so close to her that I saw her better
than I ever did any other girl, and I knew her for all time.
When she went, my heart was gone."

"Without even the ghost of it! She took it with her.
Well, that dream was so real, that the next day I began
building over my house, making furniture, and planting
flowers for her; and every day, wherever I went, I watched
for her."

"Wrong!" cried the Harvester triumphantly. "Saw
her in little less than three months, but she vanished and
it took some time and difficult work before I located
her again; but I've got her all solid now, and she doesn't
escape."

"Now won't you set aside these things and allow me
to go to work?" she asked. "My call may come any
minute, and I'll never forgive myself if I waste time, and
don't draw your moth pattern for you."

"It's against my principles to hurry, and besides, my
story isn't finished."

"It is," said the Girl. "She is young and lovely, gentle
and a lady, you have her `all solid,' and she can't `escape';
that's the end, of course. But if I were you, I wouldn't
have her until I gave her a chance to get away, and saw
whether she would if she could."

"Oh I am not a jailer," said the Harvester. "She shall
be free if I cannot make her love me; but I can, and I
will; I swear it."

"Well I hope you win her, and that she will be
everything you desire."

"Thank you," said the Harvester. "It's written in
the book of fate that I succeed. The very elements are
with me. The South Wind carried a message to her for
me. I am going to marry her, but you could make it
much easier for me if you would."

"You could cease being afraid of me. You could
learn to trust me. You could try to like me, if you see
anything likeable about me. That would encourage me
so that I could tell you of my Dream Girl, and then you
could show me how to win her. A woman always knows
about those things better than a man. You could be the
greatest help in all the world to me, if only you would."

"I couldn't possibly! I can't leave here. I have no
proper clothing to appear before another girl. She would
be shocked at my white face. That I could help you is
the most improbable dream you have had."

"You must pardon me if I differ from you, and persist
in thinking that you can be of invaluable assistance to
me, if you will. But you can't influence my Dream
Girl, if you fear and distrust me yourself. Promise me
that you will help me that much, anyway."

"I'll do all I can. I only want to make you see that
I am in no position to grant any favours, no matter how
much I owe you or how I'd like to. Is the candlestick
you are carving for her?"

"It is," said the Harvester. "I am making a pair of
maple to stand on a dressing table I built for her. It is
unusually beautiful wood, I think, and I hope she will
be pleased with it."

"Please take these things away and let me begin. This
is the only thing I can see that I can do for you, and the
moth will want to fly before I have finished."

The Harvester cleared the table and placed the box,
while the Girl spread the paper and began work eagerly.

"I wonder if I knew there were such exquisite things
in all the world," she said. "I scarcely think I did. I am
beginning to understand why you couldn't kill one. You
could make a chair or a table, and so you feel free to destroy
them; but it takes ages and Almighty wisdom to evolve
a creature like this, so you don't dare. I think no one else
would if they really knew. Please talk while I work."

"It dries day and night in an even temperature, and
faster than you would believe. There's going to be
between seven and eight pounds of it, when I make up
what it has shrunk. It will go under the head of the
finest wild roots. I can get eight for it sure."

"Oh what good news!" cried the Girl. "This is my
lucky day, too. And the little girl isn't coming, so Aunt
Molly must be asleep. Everything goes right! If only
Uncle Henry wouldn't come home!"

"Just half way, and set it where I can see it," said the
Girl. She worked with swift strokes and there was a
hint of colour in her face, as she looked at him. "I
hope you won't think I'm greedy," she said, "but truly,
that's the first thing I've had that I could taste in----I
can't remember when."

"You mustn't think of such a thing! Ice is expensive
and so are fruits."

"Ice costs me the time required to saw and pack it at
my home. I almost live on the fruit I raise. I confess
to a fondness for this drink. I have no other personal
expenses, unless you count in books, and a very few
clothes, such as I'm wearing; so I surely can afford all
the fruit juice I want."

"If those are worth five dollars to you," she said gently,
"why then I needn't hesitate to take as much for mine.
They are superior."

"I should say so," laughed the Harvester as he took
up the drawing and laid down the money.

"If you would make it half that much I'd feel better
about it," she said.

"How could I?" asked the Harvester. "Your fingers
are well trained and extremely skilful. Because some
one has not been paying you enough for your work is
no reason why I should keep it up. From now on you
must have what others get. As soon as you can arrange
for work, I want to tell you about some designs I have
studied out from different things, show you the plants
and insects, and have you make some samples. I'll
send them to proper places, and see what experts say
about the ideas and drawing. Work in the woods is
healthful, with proper precautions; it's easy compared
with the exactions of being bound to sewing or embroidering
in the confinement of a room; it's vividly interesting
in the search for new subjects, changes of material, and
differing harmonious combinations; it's truly artistic; and
it brings the prices high grade stuff always does."

"Almost you give me hope," said the Girl. "Almost,
Man----almost! Since mother died, I haven't thought
or planned beyond paying for the medicine she took and
the shelter she lies in. Oh I didn't mean to say that----!"

She buried her face in her hands. The Harvester
suffered until he scarcely knew how to bear it.

"Please finish," he begged. "You hadn't planned
beyond the debt, you were saying----"

"Give me a little more of that delicious drink," she
said. "I am ravenous for it. It puts new life in me.
This and what you say bring a far away, misty vision
of a clean, bright, peaceful room somewhere, and work
one could love and live on in comfort; enough to give a
desire to finish life to its natural end. Oh Man, you
make me hope in spite of myself!"

" `Praise God from whom all blessings flow;' " quoted
the Harvester reverently. "Now try one of these peaches.
It's juicy and cold. Get that room right in focus in your
brain, and nurture the idea. Its walls shall be bright
as sunshine, its floor creamy white, and it shall open
into a little garden, where only yellow flowers grow, and
the birds shall sing. The first ray of sun that peeps
over the hills of morning shall fall through its windows
across your bed, and you shall work only as you please,
after you've had months of play and rest; and it's coming
true the instant you can leave here. Dream of
it, make up your mind to it, because it's coming. I
have a little streak of second sight, and I see it on the
way."

"You are talking wildly," said the Girl, "else you are
a good genie trying to conjure a room for me."

"This room I am talking of is ready whenever you want
to take possession," said the Harvester. "Accept it as
a reality, because I tell you I know where it is, that it
is waiting, and you can earn your way into it with no
obligation to any one."

The Girl stretched out her right hand and slowly turned
and opened and closed it. Then she glanced at the Harvester
with a weary smile.

"From somewhere I feel a glimmering of the spirit,
but Oh, dear Lord, the flesh is weak!" she said.

"That's where nourishing foods, appetizing drinks,
plenty of pure, fresh air, and good water come in. Now
we have talked enough for one day, and worked too
much. The fruit and drink go with you. I will carry
it to the house, and you can hide it in your room. I am
going to put a bottle of tonic on top that the best surgeon
in the state gave me for you. Try to eat something
strengthening and then take a spoonful of this, and use
all the fruit you want. I'll bring more to-morrow and
put it here, with plenty of ice. Now suppose you let
the moth go free," he suggested to avoid objections.
"You must take my word for it, that it is perfectly harmless,
lacking either sting or bite, and hold your hand before
it, so that it will climb on your fingers. Then stand
where a ray of sunshine falls and in a few minutes it will
go out to live its life."

The Girl hesitated a second as she studied the clean-cut,
interested face of the man; then she held out her hand,
and he urged the moth to climb on her fingers. She
stepped where a ray of strong light fell on the forest floor
and held the moth in it. The brightness also touched
her transparent hand and white face and the gleaming
black hair. The Harvester choked down a rising surge
of desire for her, and took a new grip on himself.

"Oh!" she cried breathlessly, as the clinging feet
suddenly loosened and the luna slowly flew away among the
trees. She turned on the Harvester. "You teach me
wonders!" she cried. "You give life different meanings.
You are not as other men."

"If that be true, it is because I am of the woods. The
Almighty does not evolve all his wonders in animal,
bird, and flower form; He keeps some to work out in
the heart, if humanity only will go to His school, and allow
Him to have dominion. Come now, you must go. I
will come back and put away all the things and tomorrow
I will bring your ginseng money. Any time you
cannot come, if you want to tell me why, or if there is
anything I can do for you, put a line under the oilcloth.
I will carry the bucket."

"I will only go to the edge of the woods. You can
see if there is any one at the house first. If not, you can
send the child away, and then I will carry the bucket to
the door for you, and it will furnish comfort for one night,
at least."

They went to the cleared land and the Girl passed on
alone. Soon she reappeared and the Harvester saw the
child going down the road. He took up the bucket and
set it inside the door.

"Will you hide that stuff and walk back as far as the
woods with me? There is something more I want to
say to you."

The Girl staggered under the heavy load, and the man
turned his head and tried to pretend he did not see.
Presently she came out to him, and they returned to
the line of the woods. Just as they entered the shade
there was a flash before them, and on a twig a few rods
away a little gray bird alighted, while in precipitate
pursuit came a flaming wonder of red, and in a burst
of excited trills, broken whistles, and imploring gestures,
perched beside her.

"No. The female is gray, because if she is coloured
the same as the trees and branches and her nest, she
will have more chance to bring off her young in safety.
He is blood red, because he is the bravest, gayest, most
ardent lover of the whole woods," explained the Harvester.

The Girl leaned forward breathlessly watching and a
slow surge of colour crept into her cheeks. The red bird
twisted, whistled, rocked, tilted, and trilled, and the gray
sat demurely watching him, as if only half convinced
he really meant it. The gay lover began at the beginning
and said it all over again with more impassioned gestures
than before, and then he edged in touch and softly
stroked her wing with his beak. She appeared startled,
but did not fly. So again the fountain of half-whistled,
half-trilled notes bubbled with the acme of pleading
intonation and that time he leaned and softly kissed her
as she reached her bill for the caress. Then she fled in
headlong flight, while the streak of flame darted after her.
The Girl caught her breath in a swift spasm of surprise
and wonder. She turned to the Harvester.